A Single Rose
by pocketcucco
Summary: Pelleas seldom called on her so late in the evening — if he did, it was often an invitation to join him for dinner with his mother, or an eleventh-hour meeting concerning Daein's reconstruction.


**Author's Note: **I was going through old fanfiction documents in my computer and found this oneshot in one of my folders; I was apparently writing it for Valentine's Day last year and never ended up posting it. I've re-edited it now and I've decided to put it online, although it still contains references to a holiday I made up (instead of using Valentine's Day itself). I don't think it matters much if I post it now before Valentine's Day so...

Spoilers for after Part I of the game.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn._

_A Single Rose_

The sun was already setting along the scarlet horizon and a rather uneventful holiday was finally coming to an end when Micaiah received Pelleas's message from a hurried courier.

"His Majesty requests your immediate presence in his quarters," the courier said quickly; he had clearly been rushed to the last-minute task by the often indecisive young king. "Er, if possible, Maiden."

Micaiah gave him a cordial smile; she didn't exactly have a choice, did she? "Thank you for delivering the message. I'll go to his quarters right away."

"Would you like me to guide you, Maiden?"

"I'm confident that I've memorized the route myself. But thank you for your offer."

The courier bowed and retreated down the hall, obviously relieved to be free of his daily duties at last. It _was _a national holiday, after all; Micaiah wasn't surprised that the young servant was eager to return home after a day of work. Although a majority of the citizens of Daein had received the day off, many of the maids and servants in the castle still had daily chores and menial tasks to complete before their work was done.

Micaiah wondered why the king himself wasn't spending the holiday with his mother—she often kept close to her son, following his every movement like a shadow. Then again, Micaiah realized that she wasn't one to accuse; her 'brother' Sothe had a habit of staying as close to her as possible, often acting as her guardian and protector. In fact, she was surprised that he wasn't with her at that moment.

'_Probably off training with Leonardo or Edward,_' she decided, smiling pleasantly at the thought. Sothe deserved a break and a chance to be with his companions; Daein had finally entered a time of uneasy peace as her countrymen worked hard to reconstruct their tattered nation after Begnion's occupation.

Pelleas's quarters were in one of the more secluded and protected parts of the Daein castle, and the walk from her room to his was long and somewhat tiring. The sun had completely set and the sky was a dark, murky blue when Micaiah finally stood at Pelleas's doorway, confronted by several men of the royal guard.

"Good evening, Maiden." Even the guards addressed her with the title she had been given during her nation's uprising.

"I was summoned by His Majesty. He should be expecting my presence," Micaiah said, wringing her hands uneasily as one of the guards stepped inside the room. Pelleas seldom called on her so late in the evening—if he did, it was often an invitation to join him for dinner with his mother, or an eleventh-hour meeting concerning Daein's reconstruction.

'_Today's a holiday...even Pelleas deserves a day to relax from his duties,_' Micaiah thought as the guard returned.

"His Majesty is prepared to meet with you, Maiden."

She inclined her head and walked past the sentries, her quickly eyes adjusting to the dim, flickering candlelight of the room beyond. Although Micaiah had seen Pelleas's quarters several times in the past the lavish layout of the room still astounded her. Every piece of furniture looked so plush and welcoming but she was always afraid to touch the tables or brush against the luxurious chairs. She had grown up in poverty—almost everything in the castle seemed alien and extravagant in comparison to her meek and simple taste.

"Micaiah! I'm glad you came," Pelleas said, greeting her with cordial enthusiasm. Micaiah looked up and saw him standing beside a magnificent picture window on the opposite end of the room. His expression was a mixture of excitement and embarrassment...or, perhaps, discomfort; she couldn't quite place the emotion. "Please forgive me for calling on you at such a strange hour. Did I disturb your evening?"

"Not at all, Your Highness," Micaiah replied. "I've had nothing terribly pressing to attend to today. It is a holiday, after all—many of the people in Daein are taking a well-deserved rest."

"Indeed. I'm glad that my people can finally relax without fear of Begnion soldiers persecuting them. It's thanks to you, Micaiah."

"No, Pelleas. You're their king. The people here can live in peace because you rule over Daein with a fair hand. I merely helped to bring down Begnion."

The king shook his head. "You're too modest. But, I digress, I did not call you here to exchange pleasantries and debate over who is worthy of credit for restoring the kingdom."

Micaiah clasped her hands nervously behind her back. "What do you need from me, Your Highness?"

"Please, just Pelleas," he insisted, taking a few steps closer to her. Now Micaiah noticed something in his hand, but the light in the room was too dark for her to see the object clearly. "You're aware of the date, I assume?"

"The Day of the Rose," she said. "It's a holiday celebrated exclusively here in Daein."

"That's correct," the king said, smiling gently. "The tradition being that a man—or boy, really—gives a maiden a single rose as a token of his affections."

Micaiah smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I know all about it. I grew up with the tradition, Pelleas."

Even in the soft light she saw the faint hue on his normally pale face. "I apologize. I suppose I'm just nervous."

Pelleas finally extended his hand. A single red rose rested on his palm; small droplets of dew on its pristine petals glistened in the candle fire. "This is for you, Micaiah."

"King Pelleas," she murmured, the tips of her fingers briefly touching his as she reached out. "Th...Thank you."

His grin widened, and his hand closed around hers before she could draw away. "You're the one I must thank. You gave me the strength I needed to lead my country out of dark times... I owe you more than I can give."

Micaiah hesitated, suddenly breathless. "Th-Thank you, Pelleas," she finally said, a faint smile crossing her lips.

"For now…this is the least I could do. It's just a holiday gift so it might not be considered terribly significant, but-"

"No, I appreciate this," Micaiah insisted, placing her other hand on top of his. She looked up, still smiling.

"I'm...glad you like it," he said, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I'm very grateful to have had the honor of fighting alongside you."

"As am I. Thank you, Pelleas," Micaiah nodded, her warm eyes finally meeting his as she took the rose from his hands and held it close to her chest.


End file.
